


Kitty Rehab

by brayslmarch, MadeOfHamm



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Earth, Cat Puns, Cat Rescue AU, Cats, Community Service, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Juvenile delinquents AU, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, angrier than usual Keith, but not actually that bad, like super angry, they're bad kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-06 12:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brayslmarch/pseuds/brayslmarch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadeOfHamm/pseuds/MadeOfHamm
Summary: Lance isn't a bad kid, he just tends to get into trouble. Luckily he had never gotten caught...until he was. Poor Lance McClain was sentenced to 80 hours of community service, and worse yet, the judge sent him to V.L.D Cat Rescue. Lance doesn't even like cats, and now he's been assigned the care and rehab of a cat named Blue by a guy who likes cats a bit too much.Poor Lance gets a crush on a fellow delinquent on his very first day. Who knew he had a bad boy type?Cat Rescue/ Juvenile Delinquent AU





	1. V.L.D Cat Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a silly AU @Madeofhamm and I have been working on in our spare time! I hope you like it as much as we do!
> 
> Disclaimer: while we love cats a lot we don't actually own a cat rescue. Maybe one day!

“And make sure you _behave._ ”

Lance looked over to his mom and rolled his eyes, “Mama, I _always_ behave.” He had his head pressed against the cold car window, staring blankly out at the early morning roads. It was _far_ too early to be awake, let alone on his way to do _work._ His mother let out a breathy laugh and tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.

“Lance, if you were always behaved you wouldn't be in this situation.”

Lance huffed and stared out the window. Of course she was right. He was currently on his way to serve his community service.

Really it had been a whole misunderstanding. Okay, maybe not. Maybe Lance had gotten a _bit_ too cocky and run his mouth a _little_ too much and the resulting fight had landed him with eighty hours of… well. The judge had assigned him to a cat rescue. Really. A _cat rescue._ Lance hadn't even known those had _existed_ until he was sentenced to serve two weeks at V. L. D. Cat Rescue. He had looked the place up on Facebook. It was run by some guy who obviously loved cats a bit too much. And while he had never seen himself as a cat person, Lance figured petting cats for a week had to be better than picking up garbage on the side of the freeway like his buddy Plax got. Really, what did you even have to do at a cat rescue? Clean litter boxes?

The car pulled in next to a single story brown brick building. It was completely unassuming save for a blue sign that read “VLD CAT HOSPITAL AND RESCUE” and had a picture of a paw print that looked like it was from google images.

Lance frowned and looked back at his mom. She was giving him a knowing look. He frowned even more, “Mama I don't wanna go.”

She let out a shrill laugh that left Lance a bit deflated, “Don't give me that look! This was your punishment, you have to serve it, mijo.” She gave him a stern look. “You got yourself into this, you have to deal with the consequences.”

“Everyone else is going to be scary gang members,” Lance whined. He pointed out the window, “Like that guy. Look at him. He's going to stab me.” There was a young man leaning against the building smoking. Mama leaned over and squinted at the figure.

“He looks a bit like a weenie.”

“Mama! He's not a weenie. No one says weenie, don't say that.”

“Look how short and skinny he is.”

“He's wearing a leather jacket, Mama! I bet he has like seven knives hidden in there.” Lance squinted out at the man. He had a mess of black hair and was indeed wearing a red leather jacket, though it looked a few sizes too small and way too warm for the hot summer weather.

Mama clicked her tongue and pulled away shaking her head, “He's short, skinny, and has awful hair. You could take him.”

Lance’s head whipped around and gasped with fake shock, “You're supposed to be telling me _not_ to beat up anymore people.”

“You can only beat him up if he pulls a knife on you. Now _go,_  you're going to be late.”

Lance attempted one last pitiful frown but was met with a little-too-hard shove on the shoulder, so he grabbed his backpack with a sigh and opened the car door, “Okay but be ready to identify my slashed up body at the coroner's office.”

“I’ll be back at six to pick you up.” His mother said. Seconds later he was watching her drive away down the street. _Fuck._ He really fucked up. This _sucked._

He took a deep breath and meandered over to the front door. The building had a blue door, with big windows on either side. He could already see a big black cat watching him from the window sill. For some reason it made him shudder. The smoking boy was leaned against the building next to the door, still smoking.

“Y’know that's not good for you.” Lance said, because he couldn't _not_ say some smart ass comment in any situation where it was applicable. The boy looked over at him with piercing gray eyes. He blew the smoke out the side of his mouth– at least he had the decency for that much.

“What's it to you?”

Lance blanked for a moment. The kid was… honestly kinda cute and it was ruining his flow. He kept it cool, though, putting on his smuggest smile, “Don't want your secondhand smoke. You know they say it's just as deadly as smoking.”

The boy pushed away from the wall and flicked away his cigarette. It smoldered against the asphalt. He gave Lance a dark look, “Then do yourself a favour and don't come near me.” The dark haired boy pushed past Lance and disappeared into the building. Lance watched him through the giant window for a moment. Damn.

“And now you're littering, too? Jeez, no wonder you're in community service.” He said to absolutely no one. He stared at the butt for a few seconds, before running over to stomp it out. He hurried in through the door, trying to look relaxed and cool.

“Welcome!” A big man wearing a sweater boomed the second Lance entered the room. Seriously this guy was jacked. Lance recognized him from the website; his name was Takashi Shirogane, the owner of the rescue, and he _loved_ cats. His sweater had a pink cat on it. His arms were like tree trunks, even under the sweater. He had black hair that was short on the sides and long on the front, with a shock of white in the center of his forehead. Lance grimaced. The dude was kinda cringey. He was standing by what looked like a giant cat tree that took up most of the room in this front area. There was a small gathering of teens around him, all of whom were now staring at Lance.

“Hey.” Lance gave a tiny wave, “I’m, uh, here to–”

"You must be Lance McClain,” the man said, “You're the last to arrive! My name is Takashi Shirogane, I run this rescue. You can call me Shiro.”

“Oh… kay…” Lance breathed. He joined the group; there were three other teens, including Jacket McSmoker. The other two were a huge man and a very small girl. The tall guy was probably about Lance’s age, dark skinned with shaggy black hair and was wearing a sweater from a local high school. The dude was nearly two heads taller than Lance and looked like the Rock, if the Rock had a gut. His arms were _also_ jacked and Lance wondered how many people this guy beat up to get put on cat duty.

The girl, on the other hand, looked a few years younger. She was fair with messy dirty blond hair. She also had huge glasses she must have stolen from the 80s. She looked like too much of a nerd to be in community service. Maybe she was a volunteer?

“That's everyone, then,” Shiro said, clapping his hands together, “Let’s head to the kitten playroom. We’ll do our introductions there. Follow me.”

Lance was offended there was a room titled _the kitten playroom._ Seriously, what _was_ this place? They followed Shiro through a door, then down a narrow hallway, then through another door. Lance could _hear_ a cacophony of muffled cat sounds through the wall like the gates of hell opening up under a pillow. Shiro ushered them into the kitten playroom and closed the door behind them. It was mildly quieter.

The kitten playroom looked as adorable as it sounded. It sort of looked like a child's room, with pastel blue walls and murals of smiling trees and kittens. The floor was mint green and white checkered linoleum. The room was filled with scratching posts and cat toys littering the floor. There were four or five giant overstuffed pillows in a pile against the far wall. Shiro was already handing them out to everyone. Lance took one and sat on the floor between the big guy and the girl, feeling a bit weird about this place. Maybe it was the distant meowing that sounded a bit like the shrill screams of demons. Maybe it was the weird pink cat sweater Shiro was wearing. Maybe it was the fact that the kitten playroom was completely devoid of kittens. Either way Lance couldn't _wait_ to go home already.

Shiro sighed, putting his hands on his hips, “Keith, come sit with the group.” Lance looked over his shoulder; Broody McHotface was sitting on his pillow alone in the corner. _Keith?_ His name was _Keith!?_ Lance couldn't contain a snort. Dark Hair Jacket Man glared at him.

“What. You got something to say to me?”

“No,” Lance snickered, “It's just that Keith is a stupid name. Sounds like you should be mid forties and working an IT job you hate. Like you drive a Prius and are really proud of it.”

Keith stood up, his fists clenched. “You fucking–!” He had taken one step before Shiro snapped.

“Hey!” He was way louder and angrier sounding than anyone wearing a pink sweater should be. He glared between Lance and Keith, “Absolutely _no_ fighting in this facility. No swearing either. If I see any of you fighting, you'll be kicked out and serving your sentence elsewhere. I advise you to follow the rules. No one else will be as lenient as this job will be, I guarantee it.”

Lance cringed, scooting back around on his pillow. He _really_ didn't want to pick up trash next to the highway with Plax, “Uh… yes sir.”

“Thank you. Now get your ass over here Keith.” Shiro gestured the other boy forward.

“I thought you said no swearing,” Keith spat as he grabbed his pillow. He threw it down two feet away from the big guy and sat down, crossing his arms. He glared over at Lance, fire in his eyes.

“ _You’re_ not allowed to swear. Community service is supposed to correct your behavior as well, so let’s start now.” Shiro frowned at Keith, unaffected by his ire. Keith rolled his eyes. Lance blinked, staring at him. The guy had some _balls._ Lance was not phased by Shiro’s cute sweater. The man still looked like he could snap him in two.

“Alright,” Shiro finally said, “now that we're all settled, let's do some introductions. Like I said, my name is Takashi Shirogane. I founded V.L.D. Cat Rescue in 2005 to help feral, injured, and homeless cats in the community. So far we’ve rehomed over four hundred cats,” He smiled. Lance couldn't believe there were four hundred cats in the neighbourhood, _ever._ Shiro continued, “In 2007 I partnered with the city’s Youth Rehabilitation and Community Service program to allow V.L.D. to be a place where young offenders, like yourselves, can serve out your community service sentences. I think it's a good way to give back to the community in a way that's not just scrubbing graffiti off the side of city hall.”

The big guy next to Lance raised his hand. Shiro nodded towards him, “Yes?”

“Uh… I’m not an offender, sir?”

"Oh, right. Sorry, three of the four of you are serving out community service. Hunk here is volunteering out of the goodness of his heart.”

Lance squinted at the giant next to him. _Really?_ His name was _Hunk_ and he _hadn't_ strangled someone? He was _volunteering??_ Lance couldn't quite believe this, and, squinting at the girl, wondered what she could have possibly done to land her ass _here._ Maybe she kicked someone in the shins, seeing as that's about as high as she could reach. Maybe shoplifting? Yeah, that made sense. Bitches love to shoplift.

“Alright, well, we’ll start with you, Hunk,” Shiro said, gesturing towards the teen, “Why don't you tell everyone a little bit about yourself?”

“Uh,” Hunk looked around at the group and appeared to melt a little under everyone's gaze, “My name’s Hunk. I, well, it's a nickname but I enjoy being called Hunk–”

“What's your real name?” Lance asked. This seemed to throw Hunk for a minute. He sputtered like he didn't know the answer. Shiro raised a hand.

“Lance, don't interrupt. Go on, Hunk.”

“Okay, well, uh. I'm here because I need forty hours of volunteering so I can graduate.”

“And you chose this place?” The girl said flatly. Hunk shrugged.

“Well, I mean, I like cats so…”

“Cool. Anyways,” Lance patted the boy on the arm, “My name’s Lance. I'm here because I'm a criminal. I literally can't wait to leave.”

“Nice,” Keith snarked. Lance squinted at him.

“Yeah, it is nice, isn't it? Shut up.”

“ _You_ shut up!”

“Hey! What did I _just_ say?” Shiro snapped.

“You said no fighting!” Keith said sarcastically, “Nothing about arguing.”

“No arguing.” Shiro crossed his arms. He looked back at Lance, “So tell me, Lance. Do you have any experience with cats?”

“None at all. I've never owned a cat. I've never even seen a cat before. What's a cat?”

“Stop being a sarcastic asshole and just tell me.”

Lance was slightly offended that Shiro had called him a sarcastic asshole already. Obviously it was _true_ but it was just so _soon._ “No, I've never owned a cat or anything. My great aunt had a cat. I pet it once.”

“Well I think you'll grow to love them as much as I do,” Shiro said. Lance gave him a blank stare, and Shiro added, “Almost as much. How about you?” He looked to the girl.

She looked bored, “My name’s Pidge.”

“That can't be your real name.” Lance said. What was with all these weirdo names?

“Great observation. My real name’s Katie. Pidge is a nickname. Don't interrupt me.” She glared, her tone ice cold. Lance grimaced. Pidge rolled her eyes and continued, “I’m _also_ in the community service group. I'm a programmer, hacker, whatever. I do have a cat but she hates me.” She shrugged. Lance stared at her. She was staring lazily at a painted orange cat on the wall behind Shiro.

“Thank you.” Shiro said with a smile and a nod. He looked to Keith. Keith stared back. Shiro cleared his throat and gestured to him. He continued to stare back. Finally Shiro snapped, “Keith! Introduce yourself!”

Keith glared. “You just did!”

Shiro clenched his jaw and glared back, “Keith, can you cooperate with me just _once–”_

“Fine! My name’s Keith, I like knives. This is my second time here.” He crossed his arms and glared pointedly at a cat toy on the floor.

Lance didn't add a comment this time. But he wasn't surprised in the least.

“Thank you, Keith. But I'm disappointed to see you here again.”

“And I'm disappointed to see you in that sweater.”

Lance snorted. Shit, the kid was cute _and_ funny. Too bad he’ll probably be stabbed by the guy before the end of the day.

“Alright, well, now that we know everyone’s names,” Shiro clapped his hands together again, “Let’s move on. So I know caring for cats sounds easy but here we have over one hundred cats, all with illnesses, injuries, or behavioral problems. Daily duties include cleaning cages and delivering food, helping medicate cats who need medication, and socialization for the more… antisocial cats.” Shiro crossed his arms, “But most of your time will be spent taking care of your special cases.”

“Wait, special cases?” Pidge asked, “What's that?”

Shiro grinned like he was happy someone asked, “ _Well,_  it turns out we have four cats who have just come in who need some… tender love and care. Special one-on-one time.  Amazingly there's four of you so, naturally, you’ll each be assigned to care for one of the cats while you're here.”

Oh, so he’ll be a nanny for a cat. Lance just couldn't wait. He rested his chin on his hands and tried to look as bored as possible.

“So, like, we’ll be in charge of taking care of one cat each?” Hunk asked, “Like… are we fostering them?”

“Yes, and you can take them home at night if you want.” Shiro said. Lance scoffed.

“Yeah, okay.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and continued, “I’ll bring out the cats now so you can meet them. Wait here,” he headed to the door, “And I’ll be able to hear you if you fight so behave.”

“I always behave.” Lance said, but Shiro was already gone out the door. Lance swiftly turned back to the group, head swivelling back and forth, “So what did you guys do? I know you did nothing, but what about you?” He waved off Hunk and landed his gaze on Pidge.

“Hacked into National Bank software and stole five percent from the each of their top ten wealthiest clients. Transferred the money to five different charities. The transfer didn't go through and the firewall found my bug, so I got caught, played it off like I was just some dumb kid fooling around on the computer. So they gave me community service.” She shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

“Jesus Christ!” Lance breathed, “How much money was it?”

“Nearly a billion.”

“Fuck man. You're probably lucky it didn't go through or you'd be serving some serious time.”

“Not if I didn't get caught.” The girl said, crossing her arms. She nodded back to Lance, “What about you?”

Lance frowned, putting a hand on his chest, “Well now I'm embarrassed to say! I just got into a fight.”

“Really? That's it?” The girl laughed, “Did you lose?”

“What? Why would you assume I lost?”

“Because you're here, which means you got caught. Winners don't get caught.”

Lance swatted at her, “Doesn't matter who won, we all got caught anyways!”

“So you did lose, then.”

“Hey, why don't you shut up?” He crossed his arms, “Got into the wrong crowd. We were going out every night doing stupid shit. Usually just, I don't know, dumb stuff like knocking over mailboxes or graffiti or whatever. Sometimes we’d pick fights with other groups just to be pieces of shit. Usually won. This night someone called the cops and we got caught.”

“That's dumb,” Pidge said. Lance laughed.

“Yeah it was pretty dumb. Y’know, I didn't even like being with these guys. They were all assholes. I was just so bored at home, I guess I only wanted something to do.” He shrugged.

“I don't know if you can blame that on boredom. When I get bored I read a book or play a video game,” Hunk said.

“Yeah, well, that's because you're boring.” Lance said. He turned and smiled at Keith, “So what’d you do? Did you stab someone?”

“Don't fucking talk to me.” Keith growled. He glared at Lance, who raised his hands innocently.

“Hey, I'm just trying to be conversational, seeing as we're about to spend the next two months shovelling cat shit together.”

“What did I say about swearing?” Shiro appeared again in the doorway, this time carrying three cat carriers. Another was sitting in the hallway outside the door. Lance feigned innocence.

“I didn't swear, I was just repeating what Keith said. Really _he_ swore, I was just saying what he said–”

“Lance, please,” Shiro crossed the room, giving Lance a look. He set the cat carriers down in front of the group, running back to fetch the fourth one. Lance could hear the cats inside. One, the one on the end, was freaking out. It's carrier was jostling with movement, and devil screams we're emanating from the tiny cat prison. Lance prayed that wasn't his cat.

“So, uh, do we get to pick or something?” Hunk asked.

“No, I've matched the cats with you based on your _purr_ sonality.”

Keith groaned. “Never say that again.”

“I say it every time and I will continue to do so.” Shiro said. He kneeled next to the first carrier, “Alright, Hunk, you're up first. Your cat’s name is Rax.” He popped open the carrier and reached in. He didn't have to reach in far. He pulled out a white and orange cat. It was incredibly fat. Shiro pulled the cat out and set him down on the ground. The cat flopped over onto its side with its legs sticking out sideways. Lance thought for a moment it might have died.

“Oh.” Hunk stared at the cat, “He’s a big guy.”

"He weighs twenty three pounds. He… well, he likes to eat.”

“ _Really?_ ” Lance gasped. Shiro ignored him.

“That's one thing you'll be helping Rax out with. But the real problem is he eats when he’s scared… which is just about all the time.” Indeed the cat was flopped on his side but his golden eyes were wide. “He's incredibly shy and anxious, and stress eats.”

Hunk raised his eyebrows. “You're right, it is just like me.” He scooted closer to the cat, offering his hand for a sniff before gently petting him. The whole time Rax didn't move at all.

Lance snorted, failing to contain his giggles. He then patted his knees. “C’mon, which one's mine!?”

“See, now you're getting excited,” Shiro grinned. He walked over to another carrier, opening the gate and pulling out a big gray shorthair. This cat looked normal enough aside from a nicked ear. It sneezed and started licking its paw, “This is Blue.”

“What kind of a name is Blue?” Lance frowned.

“It's her name,” Shiro said, “She’s a Russian Blue.”

“What is that, her clan name?”

“It's her breed, Lance.” Shiro huffed. “She was rescued from a river. She nearly drowned and now has a terrible fear of water.”

“Don't all cats hate water though?”

“Most do, yes. So it won't be too much of a problem. Just keep her away from sinks and _never_ try to give her a bath. The only water you should show her is her drinking dish. But even then sometimes she gets anxious. She’s also currently suffering from pneumonia. She needs love and nurturing until she's healthy again.” Shiro picked up Blue and put her in Lance's lap. Lance grimaced and leaned away but Shiro was intent on making him socialize with this cat. She dug her claws into his leg for a moment upon landing, but then relaxed and stood on his crossed legs. She _stood,_  the dumb cat wouldn't even sit. Lance put a hand on her back trying to push her down but she just raised her ass higher in the air.

“She’s broken,” Lance said.

“No, she just wants you to pet her.” Shiro said, sounding a bit like he was talking to an idiot child, “They raise their butts like that because it's a good spot for scratchies.” As he spoke he wiggled his fingers in the air like he was scratching a ghost cat. Lance squinted at him.

“Did you just say ‘scratchies’?”

“Yes, it's the technical term.” Shiro said. He was already moving onto the next crate. He glanced up to Pidge, “Pidge, this is your case. A very special case I thought would be perfect for you.”

“You barely know me?” Pidge said, but Shiro continued as if he hadn't heard her.

“This little guy is still just a kitten.” He reached into the carrier and gently pulled out a bundle of yellow blankets. Upon closer inspection, there was a tiny, fluffy kitten face among the folds of fabric. It was a calico, with orange, black, and white splotches all over his tiny body. His little eyes were closed; the teeny thing was sleeping.

“Hey, why didn't _I_ get a cute kitten?” Lance cried, feeling a bit jealous. That little thing was _adorable._

“They're all kitties here.” Shiro said. He handed the bundle to Pidge, who took it with wide eyes, “This little guy's name is Rover. He was found under the roots of a tree. He’s the only surviving member of his litter and most likely the runt. He’s quite sick… he’s a few weeks old but still needs to be bottle fed because he’s not eating enough.”

“Oh my god.” Pidge squeaked. She looked a bit like she might cry. Lance thought it was a bit awkward, “I’ll take care of him and love him forever.”

“What kind of a name is _Rover_ for a _cat?_ ” Keith asked. Shiro gave him a look.

“Oh, _I’m sorry,_ I forgot there was a law stating cats can't be named Rover.”

Lance lowered his head and covered his mouth, trying to contain his laughter. Blue pushed her head into his and started doing a weird foot dance on his knee, “Hey, ow, stop it.” She was digging her claws into his kneecap and it kinda really fucking hurt.

“Awh, she likes you,” Hunk said, “She’s snurgling.”

“She's what.”

“Making bread.” Shiro grinned.

“She’s _what?_ ”

“Kneading,” Keith said with a huff. “They do that to make a spot more comfortable, or just when they're happy.” He rested his chin in his hand, peering over at the cat. Lance scoffed.

“Look at you, saying a whole sentence. You know this _how?_ ”

“Cats love Keith,” Shiro said, “They snurgle on him all the time!”

“And I've been here before and I'm not an _idiot._ ” Keith grumbled.

“Actually, that brings me to our last case.” Shiro said, standing and heading back to the last crate. The cat inside wailed when he approached, and a single ginger paw shot out of the metal gate and started swiping at Shiro.

“Jesus.” Lance whistled, and looked back at Keith, grinning, “You're going to have fun.” Keith just exhaled loudly and crossed his arms, throwing in an eye roll for good measure.

“I figured since you're so good with cats, Keith, I’d assign you a _special_ case.” Shiro said. He made no move to open the carrying crate, thank god.

“You said mine was a special case.” Pidge said, still holding Rover against her chest. Shiro nodded.

“They're both special in different ways. Keith, meet Sabre.”

“…Sabre.” Keith echoed flatly.

“Sabre Tooth.” Shiro said. The cat yowled so loud Rax rolled onto his feet and bolted away as fast as his short little legs would take him.

“Rax, no! Come back!” Hunk rolled to his feet and chased after him. He didn't have to go very far seeing as the fat cat only made it to the other side of the room. He was hiding behind a cat tower, presumably because he wouldn't fit _in_ the tower.

“Sabre has some behavioural issues.” Shiro said.

“Hah! Just like you!” Lance said, pointing at the dark haired teen.

“Lance, stop.” Shiro said before Keith could say anything, “Sabre hasn't been responsive to _any_ of our volunteers or even me. She’s a bit… aggressive. I want you to spend time with her and see if you can, uh, rehabilitate her.”

“Gee, thanks,” Keith deadpanned. He stared at the cat in her crate, attacking anything that came to close to her range, and even out of it. “I get the demon cat.”

“All four cats need to be ready and fit for adoption in time for our annual adoption fair in two months,” Shiro said, “I’m hoping with your help we can have four healthy and happy cats ready to find their furever homes.”

“The puns are killing me.” Lance said. Pidge nodded in agreement.

“Too bad.” Shiro replied.

“So that’s all we have to do, then? Take care of our cats?” Hunk asked.

“Yes, but it's not just simple ‘taking care’ of a cat. You need to _rehabilitate_ them. Each of your cats have special needs that have to be attended to. It's an all day job. And when you're _not_ spending time with your kitties, you'll be doing the other chores that need to be doing.”

Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. Lance stared at Blue. She had slate blue eyes that blinked back at him. _Maybe_ she was kinda cute. Would be real nice if she would stop stabbing his leg, though.

“Alrighty, now that you've met your new best friends,” Shiro started, “I’ll give you a tour of the place. You can leave the cats in here. Except Sabre. She needs to go back into her cage. Keith, why don't you take her back, you already know the layout of this place. There are gardening gloves by her cage if you want to avoid getting scratched.”

“Great.” Keith droned.

"The rest of you can follow me!”


	2. Sock Joint

The place was not very big. There really were five rooms; the front entrance, the kitten playroom, the kennels, a tiny exam room that was probably originally a closet, and a break room. The break room had a fridge, sink, and an old microwave that looked to have been made in 1976.

The kennels was where all the cats were housed, and also the biggest room in the building. The area was sectioned off into two; adoptable cats, and cats that were still under treatment. There was also a small separate area for cats under quarantine. The adoptable cats stayed in a wall of cages with a glass front where potential adopters could look at them during the day.

The non-adoptable cats stayed in pairs or trios in bigger kennels. These kennels themselves were more like skinny-but-long rooms that closed with a frosted glass door. The walls were white painted stone and the floors were cement, but each room was furnished with a pet bed, a cat tower or scratching post, a litter box and a food and drink dish, and lots of toys. They were like little cat apartments and would probably cost at least $600 a month in New York City.

The quarantine area also had cages, but these were cages similar to ones seen in a vet’s office. They had spots to hook in IV bags and the like. Currently there were only two cats in the quarantine area; one was Pidge’s tiny Rover, and the other was a cat named Beans who had sarcoptic mange.

The whole time Shiro was showing the group the the cat kennels, a loud screeching could be heard echoing through the space like an especially pissed off banshee. Lance assumed it had to be Sabre, because he could _also_ hear the pained yells of a man he assumed was Keith, and the sound brought a warm toasty joy to his heart. It wasn't that he _disliked_ Keith, it was just that Keith seemed like an asshole and Lance wanted him to suffer. Not a lot, just a small amount of suffering. Maybe suffering that wouldn't harm his beautiful, beautiful face.

The next time they saw Keith was nearly an hour later in the breakroom, where Shiro was showing them the proper way to clean a litter box; as if there was a _wrong_ way to clean a litter box. He stormed in holding a wad of paper towels to the side of his head and looked absolutely _pissed._

Lance laughed just out of the absurdity of it all; Keith’s eyes were like fire, he had a three inch tear on the right side of his leather jacket, and his forearms were covered in scratches, red with buds of blood.

“What happened to you?” Lance laughed, and immediately withered, because if looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. Keith glared at Lance with an intensity he hadn't seen before. It looked as if the boy was about to _murder_ someone.

“You wanna know!?” Keith shouted and pulled the wad away from his face. His cheek was littered with scratches, most of which were scabbing over or still oozing blood. He squinted in one eye, blinking away the blood that dripped over his eyelashes. There was a large spot on the top of his ear that was swollen and irritated and oozing dark droplets of blood.

Lance winced at the sight. It was worse than anything he expected. A few scratches maybe, but these cuts were _deep._

Keith's glare swiftly turned to Shiro. “I changed the water for your _demon_ cat and she tried to kill me!” He pressed the paper towels back against his face with a wince.

“Keith,” Shiro started in a cautionary tone. Lance braced himself, because it felt like someone was about to get his ass kicked. Shiro just crossed his giant arms, “Calm down.”

“No!” Keith spat. “You did this on purpose, leave it to you to find the _one_ fucking cat that hates me!”

“It's a challenge. This program is meant to be challenging. It's meant to teach you responsibility.”

The others’ eyes were dancing back in forth between the two like they were watching a tennis match. Lance wasn't sure which side to root for. Shiro was like a pillar, firm and unmoving, arms crossed and his mouth downturned in a slight frown. Keith didn't have nearly the same amount of composure. The kid was nearly frothing at the mouth.

“Bullshit. If babysitting cats actually mattered I wouldn’t be here again!”

“I was hoping giving you a bit more of a challenge would be helpful to you.” Shiro's voice was steadily rising. “You have some behavioural problems–”

“Yeah, no shit!” Keith cried. He kicked the empty chair next to Lance out of frustration. It teetered and fell on its back with a loud clatter. Lance was just thankful Keith had kicked the chair next to him and not him.

Hunk was cringing so hard his neck had disappeared. He stood up and started backing away out of the room like he was moving away from a rabid animal. “Hey, uh, if any of y’all need me I'll be in the Kitten Playroom. With Rax.” He said so quietly Lance wasn't sure anyone had heard him, but the big guy was already scampering out of the room. _God I wish that were me,_ Lance glanced from Hunk’s retreating figure back to Keith. He would be high-tailing it out of this awkward situation too if he wasn't afraid of breaking some community service rule. He was too young and beautiful for prison!

“Hey!” Shiro yelled– actually yelled, loud enough to make Pidge jump, “You know very well if it weren't for me giving you a second chance, you'd be in prison right now. So maybe you should watch your attitude, Keith.”

Keith glared daggers back at Shiro for a tense moment before he whipped around.

“Wouldn't get my earring ripped out in prison,” he muttered and headed for the door. “I'm sick of this bullshit place!” He added, significantly louder. He stormed out of the room attempting to slam it shut behind him, but the door was pneumatic and resisted his force. It gently closed behind him with a loud click that echoed through the room.

The room was uncomfortably quiet for a minute as Shiro stared at the closed door with narrowed eyes. Lance stared at Pidge, who looked back with raised brows. Finally Lance scooted back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head.

“So that, uh, Keith, huh? Is he normally that much of a dickhole or…?”

Shiro’s eyes slid over to Lance, “Lance, don't test me.”

“Hey, I'm on your side! I think that was totally uncalled for!” Lance cried. He looked to Pidge for support, but she just rolled her eyes. Shiro took a deep breath, sat down again, and stared at the litter box on the table between them, then back at the two teens.

“Alright, so, cleaning a litter box. Where were we?” He looked between the two, eyebrows furrowing, “Wait, where’s Hunk?”

 

***

 

Keith didn't return. Lance spent the rest of the morning cleaning litter boxes, which, while awful, wasn't as bad as he would have thought. Some of the cats were even pretty cute. One calico named Francesca escaped while Hunk was cleaning her cage. Lance found out about it when Francesca decided to run down the hall and up his back. Lance now had claw marks along his spine but damn was little Francie adorable.

At lunch everyone meandered into the break room. Shiro was on the phone talking quickly and quietly to someone. Pidge was eating a sandwich and appeared to be trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. Hunk was reheating some food in the microwave that smelt delicious and spicy. Rice with meat, a yellowish sauce, and lots of veggies, all in neatly organized Tupperware containers the large teen pulled out of a yellow lunch bag. Lance had forgotten to pack a lunch. To his credit, his mom usually packed him lunch– still, despite being seventeen. And, to his mom’s credit, she _had_ told him to pack himself a lunch the night before, but Lance hadn't done it, mostly out of spite. Now he was regretting it.

Shiro was still on the phone. Lance overheard Keith’s name being mentioned. He wondered if Shiro was calling the cops on him or something. The good news was that Shiro was distracted, and just nodded absently when Lance said he was going to the bathroom. He _did_ go to the bathroom, but after wandered through the kennels and out the back door of the building. He had a joint in his sock that he was thinking of smoking. Of course it had been a bit of a lucky break that Shiro hadn't searched for any illicit substances or weapons or something; Plax had said that her community service manager made them wear jumpsuits and did a pat down every morning. He didn't mind smoking a sock joint, but if Shiro was as lax as he seemed to be, maybe next time it could be a pocket joint instead.

He hadn't expected to find Leather Jacket Boy smoking in the alley behind the cat rescue. By the look of the butts on the ground, he had been doing nothing but smoke since he had run off two hours ago. Keith was leaned up against the building, just like he had been that morning, except now his hands were shaking slightly and his face was covered in cat scratches. He stared at Lance unfavourably the second the back door opened and Lance shuffled out into the alleyway.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Lance scoffed, sitting down on an overturned bucket against the parallel building, “You're asking _me_ that? I thought you'd be miles away from here by now.”

“Can't leave.” Keith muttered, taking another drag. “I'll be breaking probation.”

“Uh, pretty sure Shiro thinks you've left. Heard him talking about you on the phone just now.” Lance said. He fished around his ankle for his joint. It had slipped down his sock and now was a bit _too_ close to his foot, but seeing as Lance had no standards he wasn't bothered. The possibility of Foot and Mouth was a Future Lance problem.

“Shiro knows I'm out here.” Keith said, “He found me like an hour ago.” Lance squinted at him.

“What? And you're just allowed to hang out in the back not doing anything!?”

“It's better for everyone this way.” Keith glanced over at Lance and squinted. “And you're ragging on _me_ for smoking?”

“Uh, this is a _joint,_ ” Lance said, holding up the thin little thing he had rolled himself, “not a dirty cigarette.”

Keith's eyes widened in a moment of stunned silence before he burst out laughing. “I should have figured. You know Shiro's gonna smell that a mile away.”

Lance couldn't believe Keith was capable of laughing, even if it was sorta directed towards him. It was… really _cute._ _Oh god damn it._ He blinked, looking between the joint and Keith, “He can't prove it if there’s no weed left. I’ll just have to smoke it all.”

“Or he could walk you down to the police station and have you take a drug test.” Keith smirked. “He will, I've seen him do it. And in the meantime he’ll put you on non-stop shit duty.”

“Great.” Lance sighed. He stared at the joint again, then looked up at Keith, “You think he’d smell one drag? Like, just _one?_ I'm dying here man. Give me your lighter.”

Keith laughed again, a short breathy sound escaping his lips. “You're just going to take one hit and put it back in your sock?”

“Well, _yeah,_ do you have a better idea, asshole? I've been cleaning cat shit all morning!”

Keith hummed in thought before flicking away the finished cigarette butt. “Give it to me. If Shiro smells anything you can say it was me.”

“I'm not giving you my hard earned weed.”

“Not the whole thing dickhead! Take a few hits and give me the rest. I'll even let you use my lighter.” Keith smiled and crossed his arms, raising a single brow. Lance squinted, trying to find the downside here.

“You'd really take the fault like that?” Lance asked, “Just for three quarters of a tiny joint?” _Or,_ Lance thought, _maybe he’d take the fault for_ **_me._** But that was just his inner hopeless romantic. Truly it was a love story as old as time; two social miscreants find each other at community service, share a joint, one sacrifices himself for the other and they live happily ever after, probably behind bars.

Keith shrugged. “Not like it hasn't happened before. Plus, he'll be much more lenient with me than you.” Keith crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “So what's it gonna be? I'm dying to relax and the cigs are enough.”

“Yeah, you look like you're freaking the fuck out,” Lance said, nodding at the boy’s hands, which were still a bit shaky as he fished through his pockets for his lighter. It would probably help with the pain in his face too. Lance shrugged, “Yeah, deal. You look like you need it more than me.”

“Sweet,” Keith crouched down and pulled out his lighter, flicking a little flame up for the boy. Lance leaned in close, joint in mouth, holding the end over the flame and sucking in until smoke filled his lungs. They were inches apart. Keith smelt like dirt and bargain store shampoo and cigarettes. Up close Lance could see a spot near his adam’s apple that he had missed while shaving. Lance wheezed out smoke, still staring at the unshaven spot, thinking about Keith. The boy had an oddly mysterious air to him. Maybe it was the fact that he looked like he could stab someone and not feel bad about it, or that he stood up to _Shiro_ and walked it off no problem. He looked like he had a lot of secrets, and Lance wanted to know them all.

Keith pulled back now that the joint was lit. Lance felt his heart skip a beat as the space between them widened.

“Wait!” He suddenly said, nearly spitting out the joint in the process. Keith froze in his movement, still so close to Lance, blinking.

“What? Why?” His eyes darted around like he was searching for reasoning Lance couldn't supply. Lance’s brain wasn't any help, either.

“You, uh,” Lance raised his hand and with a single finger poked the unshaven spot on his neck, “you missed a spot.”

Keith jerked back and reached up to touch his neck. He felt the small patch of nearly undetectable hairs and squinted, backing away again. “Weirdo,” he breathed.

Lance looked away, taking a desperate drag from the joint, his face feeling like it was on fire. _Smooth, Lance. Good going._ He was quite possibly going to die from embarrassment. He puffed out smoke, contemplating how awful his life was, before passing the joint over to Keith without looking at him, “Here.”

Keith took it with a subtle brush of his fingers that made Lance's skin heat up, “Thanks.” He took a long drag, tilting this back and blowing out a cloud of smoke. He grinned at the sky. Lance felt this may be too much for his heart, so he stood and stretched his arms over his head.

“Yeeep, gonna head back inside now. Uh. You think this is a believable amount of time for someone to have taken a shit?”

Keith looked over with his eyes. “If you had diarrhea, sure.”

Lance snorted, “Doesn't it come out faster if you have diarrhea?”

“Recovery time’s longer.”

“Right, I forgot about the time spent on the toilet crying afterwards.” Lance laughed.

Keith grinned, apparently less on edge already. “It's a hellish experience.”

“Right. Speaking of hellish experiences, I should really be getting back before Shiro figures out I'm in the back smoking pot with an outlaw.”

“We're in the same boat, buddy.” Keith said, taking another long drag. Lance put his hand on the doorknob, but paused, looking back at him.

“You gonna come back? There's still, like, four hours left in the day.”

Keith scoffed. “No, I'm staying out here ‘til six. I think I still need time to… cool off.” He reached up and brushed his fingers against one of the cuts across his cheek. They were still red and irritated, but had at least scabbed over.

“Okay, well, I'm not feeding your hellcat for you.” Lance said. He pulled open the door, striding in through the doorway, “I’ll tell her you miss her, though.”

“Yeah right,” Keith huffed. “You can tell her to go fuck herself.”

“Will do.” Lance said with a wink and a finger-gun, before disappearing inside.

 

***

 

Shiro, of course, smelt the weed on Lance near instantaneously. Lance ran into him in the kennels on his way back to the breakroom.

“Went to the bathroom, hm?” Shiro crossed his arms in a way that still managed to look intimidating despite his cat sweater.

“Got lost.” Lance said. Shiro didn't seem to be buying it.

“Don't lie to me Lance. I can tell, and I can smell the pot on you. You were smoking outside, weren't you?”

“No! I wasn't!” Lance held up his hands in defence and put on his best look of innocence, which had worked on his mom many times, “I got lost and ended up in the back alleyway with Keith. He had a joint, the smell just must have gotten on me.”

“Uh huh.” Shiro shook his head, and glanced over to the closed back door, “So you're telling me you just _happened_ to lose your way in a five room building, ended up outside with a guy you just met, and decided to stick around while he smoked up?”

“Uh…” Lance looked between Shiro, and a screaming white cat in the cage directly behind him, “Yeah, actually. That _is_ what happened.”

“Lance–” Shiro started, but was interrupted by the backdoor opening. Keith wandered in, trying his best to look surprised seeing Shiro there. Shiro frowned at him, “Keith.”

“Takashi.” Keith echoed in the same inquisitive tone. He nodded to Lance, “What’s up?”

“Hey, man…” Lance replied, as if he hadn't just seen Keith two minutes ago. He wondered if the guy had smoked the rest of the tiny joint in that time. His eyes were watering a bit, so that was a possibility.

“Were you smoking out there?” Shiro asked Keith.

“Yeah,” Keith responded in a calm voice. Lance wasn't sure how he wasn't squirming under the scrutiny of the other man. Maybe the weed had something to do with it, “Can't you smell it on me?”

“Yes, I can.” Shiro looked downright pissed. He uncrossed his arms and firmly planted them on his hips instead like he didn't know what to do with them, “You're really testing me today, Keith. Do you _want_ me to call the cops? I told you just to sit outside and calm down–”

“Well, to be fair, that's what he was doing,” Lance said. Shiro’s glare turned to him and Lance felt like an ant under a magnifying glass for a moment. He turned and started playing with the white cat through the glass instead.

Shiro sighed, turning back to Keith. His expression softened and his tone changed, “I'm trying to help you out, Keith. But you have to want to be helped.”  

Keith looked away, crossing his arms and frowning like he hadn't expected the conversation to go this way. “Whatever.”

“Listen, Keith. This has to stop. I can't keep being lenient on you just because–”

“Do we have to have this conversation here?” Keith huffed, eyes boring holes into the back of Lance’s head. Shiro sighed.

“I'm tired of sticking my neck out for you. You're out of chances, Keith. You do this shit again and I'm going to have to report it.”

Keith still wouldn't look him in the eye. Finally his grey eyes flicked up to Shiro, and he mumbled, “Why won't you just give up on me like everyone else? It'd be better for the both of us.”

Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. The boy flinched ever so slightly. Shiro shook his head.

“I'm not one to give up easily, Keith. Just take care of the cats and keep out of trouble. I know you can do it.”

Lance interjected before Keith could reply. “This is touching and all but, uh, I'm feeling extremely awkward so… can I leave?”

“Go back to the lunchroom. I'll be there in a minute.” Shiro said. He looked Lance up and down, crossing his arms again, “And don't think you've gotten off scot free. You can't just run off whenever you feel like it.”

“I know, I know, I learned my lesson.” Lance smiled, hoping to charm Shiro, but the attempt failed.

“You and Keith both have just won cage cleaning duties tomorrow. Congratulations.”

“That doesn't sound like a prize at all.” Lance said, but Shiro was already walking past him.

“Get back to the breakroom, Lance. And Keith, just… stay out of trouble.”

 

***

 

“Okay. So,” Lance said, “girl, Let’s get to know each other. You're a lovely lady, right? You're very pretty. Has anyone ever told you that you have gorgeous eyes, babe?”

Blue stared back at him, blinking a few times before continuing to lick her paw. Lance, sitting on the floor, legs crossed, threw his arms up in protest.

“We’re supposed to be bonding, Blue! How am I supposed to teach you to trust water if you don't even trust _me?_ ”

“Lance are you yelling at the cat?” Hunk’s disembodied voice came floating in from under the door. Each of the teens were now in the cat apartments, spending ‘bonding’ time with their special case cats. There was only an hour left in the day and Lance could _not_ wait to go home. Hunk was next door with his cat, Rax. “Cats don't like yelling. They can sense frustration and feed off it.”

“I'm not _yelling,_ I'm _speaking loudly,_ ” Lance replied. He stared at Blue. The silver tabby was licking her butthole on the top of the cat tower, “This is the first girl to ignore my advances. I'm at a loss. How am I supposed to bond with this thing?”

“What, are you trying to fuck the cat?” Pidge's voice came from his other side. “Cats don't act like the floozys you meet at the _Loose Goose,_ just pet the damn thing.”

“What do you know about floozies? You're fifteen, you're a _child!”_ Lance balked. Pidge snorted and started laughing.

“I'm in high school, I think I have a basic grasp on the English language.”

“Pet the cat. Give her scritchies.” Hunk said. His voice changed, turning high pitched and silly like he was talking to a baby, “Mr. Raxy loves scritchies, don't you? _Don't you~_ ”

Lance groaned. “This is killing me. I can feel my coolness dying inside.”

“Hah! As if you were cool to start with,” Pidge snorted. Lance rolled his eye despite the fact that no one but Blue could see it.

“You don't know me. I'm cool. I'm _really_ cool.”

“Yeah okay.”

“You don't strike me as the cool type.” Hunk said, “I know, I’m not cool either.”

“Hey! _You're_ here volunteering, because you're lame. _I’m_ here because I _earned it_ being a cold hard criminal.”

“You got into a baby fight, I wouldn't say you're a cold hard criminal,” Pidge drawled.

“Yeah, Pidge swindled millions of dollars. That's way more cool that punching someone.” Hunk added.

“Uh, excuse me! She _almost_ swindled millions of dollars. She didn't _actually_ do it. So, not cool.”

“Still cooler than you,” Pidge said. Lance could hear the smirk in her voice. He rolled his eyes.

Without a verbal response, the conversation died. Lance stood and walked the two steps to the cat tower and stared at Blue. She ceased grooming herself and stared back at him before leaning in to sniff his nose.

“What do you think Keith did?”

Another silence fell between them, each afraid of what the answer could be. Pidge was the first to speak up.

“Judging from his personality, probably something _bad.”_

“You think he stabbed someone?” Hunk muttered, “He said he liked knives. What kind of person likes knives other than a sociopath?”

“What if he killed someone?”

“Oh god, what if he attacks one of _us!_ ”

“Are you kidding? If he stabbed someone he’d be charged as an adult. He wouldn't be here fucking around with cats,” Lance said. “They don't give you community service for murder, _especially_ on a second offence.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I knew that.” Hunk said, sounding like he didn't know that, “I was just joking around.”

“Yeah, sure you were, big guy.” Lance snorted. He gave Blue a pat on the head. She meowed at him, then ran off, disappearing into the hole of the cat tower. Lance rolled his eyes, again. _Well, okay then._ He plopped back down onto the floor and started fidgeting with a felt mouse toy.

“Okay, then what do _you_ think he did?” Pidge asked.

Lance thought back to their conversation in the alley. “Maybe he was caught dealing?”

“Like… dealing cards?” Hunk asked. Lance gasped.

“Oh, you sweet innocent _baby–”_

“He means drugs.” Pidge said.

“I mean, okay, that was my second guess! I thought you meant, like, gambling or something!”

Lance snorted. “No, I meant selling crack or something.”

“I can't imagine him selling hard drugs. Maybe molly, shrooms, LSD, y'know, party stuff,” Pidge said.

“How do you know what molly even is?” Lance squinted at the wall, “I'm questioning your upbringing, child.”

“I have an older brother!”

“A terrible one, apparently.”

“He’s currently missing, so fuck you.”

 _Oh._ Lance was trying to formulate a response that didn't make him sound like an asshole. Thankfully Hunk took that bullet for him.

“…What even _is_ molly? Do you snort it?”

“You ram it up your asshole like an enema,” Lance said, completely deadpan.

“…What? Why would anyone even want to do that?” Hunk sounded offended.

“It's a pill, Hunk. A pill. You put it on your tongue,” Pidge said.

“Oh. Well, okay, that sounds like more fun.”

“Hey, having things shoved up your ass is some people’s definition of a good time,” Lance said.

“You mean like you?” Pidge added smugly.

Lance gasped, holding a dainty hand to his chest, “I am _offended_ you would make such wild accusations but yes, you're right, absolutely.”

“Wait, what?” Hunk started, but Lance ignored him.

“So, wait, what’s this thing about a missing brother?” He asked, trying his best _not_ to sound like an asshole, but it was hard. Every time he opened his mouth asshole tended to come out. Or in, depending on the day.

Pidge’s reply was curt, “Like I have to tell you.”

“No, you don't. But I have a feeling you want to.”

There wasn't a reply for a while. Lance played with the cat toy in the silence. Blue reemerge from her cat tower to take a flying leap at the toy. Lance squeaked in surprised as the silver tabby started mauling the little pink mouse in his hand.

“My brother and father were kidnapped about a year ago.” Pidge said. Lance let out an odd yelp-slash-hum in response, that sounded a bit like ‘huwah!?’ because Blue dug her claws into his palm at that exact moment.

“Oh man, that's… I'm sorry.” Hunk said, “A year ago? Do you know who kidnapped them?”

“I have my suspicions.” She said.

“Were they part of a gang?” Lance asked, shaking out his hand. Little pricks of red bloomed along his wrist in distinctly claw-shaped arc, “I heard gang members get kidnapped all the time.”

“They were scientists.” Pidge snapped, cold and curt.

Lance uselessly held up his hands. “Hey, just asking.”

“Who would want to kidnap scientists?” Hunk asked.

“Hey maybe they found something they shouldn't have.” Lance said, “Like made a drug that would have undercut some big pharma company, who sent out some big guys to break a few kneecaps.”

“They aren't chemists, they're biologists,” Pidge said, “They were in the arctic studying the ice.”

“What, to see if it's wet?”

“No, to look for _life._ They were studying the frozen water from millennia ago looking for ancient bacterium that might be still trapped undiscovered in the ice.”

“Oh yeah! I heard about this on the news last year!” Hunk said, a little bit too excited for someone talking about someone else’s kidnapped-and-likely-dead-relatives, “Y’know that exposition was code named Kerberos. Like the moon!”

Lance wrinkled his nose, “The moon’s called Kerberos?”

“Not _our_ moon, _Pluto’s_ moon,” Pidge sighed. Lance got the feeling she didn't want to talk about this anymore. He changed the subject.

“Hey, what time is it?”

Lance jumped when neither Pidge nor Hunk replied.

“It’s time for you to be bonding with your cats.” Shiro said, his hulking figure suddenly appearing on the other side of the kennel’s glass door.

Lance looked back at him, holding up his hand, “I’m trying but I’m _injured._ ”

“Do you need a bandaid?” Shiro asked. Lance frowned.

“No. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Just pet her, for starters,” Shiro said, arms crossed, “Tomorrow maybe you can get into the more advanced techniques such as belly rubs. For now, it’s actually almost time to go.”

“Hell yeah!” Lance couldn't resist a fist pump. Blue was startled by the sudden movement, her tail puffing up, and she scuttled away in a way that made her look a bit possessed, “Wait, Blue, no–”

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Shiro said, “Alright guys. Time to head home. Pidge, Rover goes back into the hospital wing. Rax and Blue can stay where they are.”

Lance stood. He heard the click of the neighbouring kennel door being opened. Hunk spoke, “Hey, what about, uh, Sabre?” Shiro snorted.

“I’m not moving Sabre anywhere. She can stay where she is, too. I’ll go in there later to feed her, don’t worry.”

“Oh god, good luck with that.” Lance stood and stretched, doing a few squats for good measure. He was all cramped up from sitting trying to pet a cat for two hours. He walked to the door, looking up at Shiro, “So… am I free to go?”

“You're not in jail, Lance,” Shiro replied, but sighed and added, “but, yes, you're free to go.”

“Woo!” Lance threw his hands up in the air and slipped past Shiro, prancing down the hallway. Shiro rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I can stay longer, if you want,” Hunk said, appearing in his doorway, but Shiro just patted him on the shoulder.

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. All of you.”

“I can't hear you, I'm too busy being a free man!” Lance shouted back, arms still in the air. He disappeared through the door leading to the front room.

“Yeah, until tomorrow.” Pidge snorted. Lance didn't hear her. He was already out the front door and diving into his mama’s car.

“So, how was it?” She asked, her red fingernails tapping on the steering wheel as Lance hastily buckled up, “You ran out so fast you’d think you were being chased.”

“Yeah, by a tidal wave of cat poop.” Lance griped. He looked out the passenger window as his mom pulled away. He caught a glimpse of Keith, hunched with his hands in his pockets, walking away from the building in the opposite direction. He followed the boy with his eyes until his mom turned the corner and Keith’s figure disappeared from view.

“So you didn't get stabbed by that little guy, then?” Momma laughed. Lance blinked at her, lost in thought for a moment.

“What? Oh, no. He's not that bad actually.”

“Did you learn a lesson?” His Mama eyed him.

“Sure,” Lance leaned his head against the window, “Have you ever heard of the word ‘snurgling’?”


	3. Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets wet, and then passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: imagery of surgery.
> 
> Also Lance, in this AU, was born in Cuba and moved to the States when he was about 14. He's got dyslexia and has a hard time reading sometimes. But he's still got that winning smile.

It was raining. Actually, correction, it was _pouring;_  freezing cold bullets of ice-water that seemed to go right through him. Lance McClain was miserable. Well, that was to be expected, seeing as he was trekking through sheets of freezing cold rain at seven in the morning on his way to _community service._

And it was only his second day.

His mom had refused to drive him today. Or any day in the future, citing ‘you have a bus pass for a reason’ as a reason to force her youngest son out into the pouring rain far too early in the morning.

Lance was a little salty about it, and may have been a _little_ salty when he did finally make it to VLD Cat Rescue and Rehabilitation Center.

“What’s up, motherfuckers!?” Lance shouted as he kicked open the door, arms slightly raised as rain poured down in the background. He had been expecting three equally unimpressed stares back at him; or four, if Keith bothered to show up. But the lobby was empty. He could hear muffled voices from down the hall. With a sigh, he plodded across the room and down the hall to the Kitten Play Room. He kicked open the door, arms slightly raised, residual rain dripping off his soaked clothing.

“What’s up, motherfuckers!?”

Silence fell in the room as unimpressed eyes stared back at him.

“Lance,” Shiro deadpanned, “you're late.”

“You're _wet,_  a familiar voice teased. Keith gazed up at Lance with a smirk so devilish it made his chest tight.

Lance threw an arm out, gesturing towards the front door. “Hey! If you hadn't noticed, it's _pouring_ outside! I missed my bus and had to stand in a goddamn _monsoon_ to get here!”

“Why didn't you bring an umbrella?” Pidge asked, nose wrinkling. She sat on the floor on a pillow next to Hunk and across from Keith. They were all sitting on pillows in a circle around Shiro, all with papers and pens in front of them.

“It wasn't raining when I left!” Lance cried.

“And… you didn't check the weather before you went?” Hunk raised a brow.

“You know you can get weather reports on your phone.” Pidge smirked. Keith snorted. Lance scowled.

Shiro raised a hand, “Enough, guys. I'm glad you made it, Lance, albeit late.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Lance sauntered further into the room, leaving a puddle behind him. He eyed Keith, “Nice to see you showed up, too. I didn't think you would.”

Keith furrowed his brows, his smirk still plastered on that smug face. “Why wouldn't I? I'm mandated by law to be here.”

“Right.” Lance sighed, “Aren't we all?”

“Not me…” Hunk mumbled.

“Yeah, we know you're not a delinquent like the rest of us.” Pidge said.

“Alright, alright, enough,” Shiro said, but he looked amused. His eyes slid over to Keith, “Keith, go get Lance some towels and one of those extra volunteer t-shirts we have in the back room.”

The amusement vanished from Keith's face. “What? Why me?”

“Because you're the only one who knows where they are.” Shiro said. Keith groaned. He made a point to get up and walk out of the room in the most annoyed way possible.

“Hurry up, man. I'm freezing!” Lance said, taking Keith’s seat and crossing his legs in front of him. Keith growled at him, giving the boy a good glare before attempting to slam the door behind him.

Lance crossed his arms behind his head and yawned, “So, what’d I miss?”

“Stop that,” Shiro frowned. Lance straightened with a bored roll of the eyes. Shiro continued, “Go with him.”

Lance frowned. “Uh, why?”

“You’re leaving a puddle on my floor,” Shiro said, his eyes pointedly flicking down to the linoleum where droplets from Lance's soaked body were accumulating, “Go change in the bathroom.”

Lance stood with an exaggerated sigh, doing an equally exaggerated shuffle towards the door, “I come in from the _rain_ and you send me out!” He glanced back and caught Pidge rolling her eyes at him. Hunk was playing on his phone. Apparently he was allowed to have a phone. The _injustice._

Shiro's unimpressed expression did not budge, “Go. And bring the mop back with you.”

“Lo que quieras, viejo!” Lance complained, throwing an arm up for good measure as the door softly closed behind him. Damn those pneumatic doors.

He shoved his hands in his uncomfortably moist pockets and headed for the break room. A smile crept across his face. He liked throwing in random Spanish into conversation. Maybe it was because he liked knowing something that others didn't, like he had a tiny bit of a one-up on whoever he was talking to. He didn't get to be better than others most of the time, but at least he could swear at them in Spanish and they would be confused at least until they could google it.

His running shoes made an awful squelching against the concrete floor. Maybe Shiro had some extra shoes, too. It would be nice not to be walking in a puddle all day.

“Hey. Where are you going?” A sudden rough voice pulled him out of of his completely uninteresting thoughts. Lance turned, seeing Keith at the other end of the hallway, having come from the direction of the kennels.

“Shiro told me to come and change.” Lance said, walking back towards the other teen. Keith held a yellow t-shirt over his shoulder like an Instagram model. Lance hadn't noticed earlier, but the kid looked rough. He had scabs across his cheek and forehead, some that were _definitely_ getting infected. His right ear had a terrible gash on the edge, cutting through the cartilage– that damn cat really _did_ rip out his earring. On top of that, he just looked tired. His hair was a mess and his face looked greasy. The boy did _not_ have a proper skin care routine, of that much Lance was positive.

It was a good thing the guy was hot, because he was a goddamn mess.

“Great.” Keith tossed the shirt to Lance, who fumbled to catch it. It fell to the floor. Smooth. Luckily Keith had already moved on and apparently didn’t notice Lance's great reflexes. Actually, he was moving in the direction of the break room, and _away_ from the kitten play room.

Lance followed him and wrinkled his nose. “Wait, where are you going?”

Keith glanced over and pointed to the door in front of him before pushing it open. “Break room.”

“Shouldn't you be going back?” Lance followed him in, watching Keith as he flopped heavily into one of the rickety folding chairs.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in the chair, “But I won’t. I can kill more time if you’re still busy changing. Which… you should probably go do.” He squinted pointedly at the little puddle Lance was making.

“Yeah, I was going to change in here.” Lance said, “Pretty sure the bathroom here is haunted with the ghosts of many STDs. So if you mind…” He flapped his hands like he was shooing away a flock of birds.

Keith shook his head innocently, “I don’t.”

Lance was _shook._ He unexpectedly had no idea what to say. He stared at Keith, who was staring back at him, arms crossed, “I'm going to take my shirt off. And then my pants.”

“Yes, I’m aware how changing works.”

“And you just… want to watch?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Keith huffed and let his head drop against the back of the chair, “I’m just too lazy to move.”

“Okay. Fine. _Whatever._ ” Lance huffed, throwing his shirt off too energetically. The wadded up, wet cloth fell out of his hands and fell to the ground with a moist _slap._ Lance felt his cheeks heating up. He didn't get _outwardly_ embarrassed very often. He was good at hiding that shit inside. And even though Keith was still gazing up at the ceiling he felt like the guy was staring right at him. So he turned around, feeling oddly exposed, hastily pulling on the t-shirt. It was yellow, three sizes too big, and had “V.L.D Cat Rescue” in big purple letters. There was a screen printed picture of a winking black cat on the back.

“Hey, did you bring any shorts?” Lance asked, glancing over his shoulder at the other boy, “My pants are soaked and I don't really feel like walking around in my tighty-whities.”

“ _Tighty-whities?_ What are you, twelve?” Keith breathed out a laugh.

“They're _comfortable._ ” Lance cried, “Are there extra pants or not?”

Keith snorted. “Y’know they made this great invention called ‘boxers’? Have you heard of them?” But even as he spoke he stood up and moved towards the door. “I’ll see if we have shorts small enough for your skinny ass.”

“So you're looking at my ass now?” Lance followed him out into the hallway after shedding his shoes and socks in a pile along with his discarded shirt.

Keith didn't answer the ass question. So Lance disregarded it.

“Okay, but for real, you look awful. Your ear is all red.”

“Yes, a demon cat assaulted me yesterday, don’t you remember?”

“Oh yeah, I remember. I just thought you'd have taken a goddamn shower in between then and now.”

Keith stopped suddenly, glowering at Lance for a moment before opening a closet Lance didn't even notice. In his defense, it was set into the wall and painted the same sad colour of blue. Keith leaned in, shuffling around through piles of fabrics. Lance peered over his shoulder. There were cat carriers and bags of food set on the bottom. The higher shelves had toys, food dishes, bottles, bags of formula, and other miscellaneous cat related stuff. It must be a storage closet.

Suddenly something flew at Lance's face. He stiffened, hands flying to get the mysterious object off his face. Ah, pants. Black sweatpants with the shelter’s logo on the hip.

“There, pants.” Keith said, “Sorry, no panties in here.”

“Ha ha, I'll have you know briefs make my ass look _so_ much better than a pair of _boxers._ ” He was pulling off his pants because, at this point, he had no shame and just wanted to be out of these wet pants. He glanced up and saw Keith staring at him. His face flushed again, “ _Don't look asshole!”_ He threw the wet pants at the boy's head. He missed horribly.

Keith huffed angrily, but did turn around, closing the closet door in the meantime. “You’re the one who started to fucking strip in front of me.”

Lance pulled his new pants up, his thoughts racing. He couldn't hold onto a thought long enough to make a coherent retort. So he just picked his wet jeans up off the floor and started padding away back to the break room. “Yeah, okay.” Great comeback, Lance.

They took a pit stop at the break room to collect the rest of Lance's soaked clothes. Keith also grabbed a roll of paper towel, proving he _could_ think ahead at least a little bit.

“Are there ever kittens in the kitten playroom?” Lance asked on their way back, “I feel like I was promised kittens and I have yet to see any.”

“Yeah, during kitten season.” Keith said.

“There's a kitten season!?” Lance was imagining kittens becoming ripe and ready to harvest from a cat tree.

“Yeah. Spring. When all the feral cats get pregnant and pop out babies.”

“Ah. Right. _Feral._ ”

“Okay, are you actually an idiot or are you doing a bit?” Keith wrinkled his nose. They had crossed through the front entrance and had come back to the kitten room door.

“What? What does feral mean? I've never heard that word before.” Lance whined, adding, “English isn't my first language, okay?”

Keith actually seemed to lose his patronizing look. “Oh. It means wild.”

“Like stray cats?” Lance asked, and Keith looked like he was about to answer when the door unceremoniously opened behind him. Shiro's big head and equally giant neck poked out.

“Will you two get in here? What took you so long?” He herded the two boys into the room, where Hunk was still on his phone and Pidge was laying on her back, staring at a cat toy.

“I was helping him,” Keith said, feigning innocence. He held out a hand, gesturing towards Lance. “He wanted panties.”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _P_ _ants!_ ” Lance shrieked. “Pants, I asked for pants!” He threw down his pile of clothes on the floor and plopped down on a pillow between Pidge and Keith.

“That's not how I remember it,” Keith walked back over to his pillow and frowned. “Aw what? You got my pillow wet, asshole.” He kicked the damp pillow into Lance's side.

“Keith, stop.” Shiro huffed. That seemed to be a big portion of his vocabulary. The man sat once again in the center of the circle, crossing his legs and straightening out his VLD Cat Rescue shirt. Keith grumbled and dragged over another pillow to sit on, flopping down with a scowl.

“Well, now that we're finally all here…” Shiro started, looking about at his young charges, “I've handed out some photocopied exercises for you. I like to call it your 'personal development’ work.”

Lance picked up the small pile of paper off the linoleum floor. There were two or three pages, double sided, and at a glance looked a _lot_ like homework. He frowned. He was not a huge fan of homework.

“Personal development?” Pidge asked, sounding a bit disgusted.

“Yes! Community service isn't _just_ punishment, it is also rehabilitation. I believe you should be learning how to better yourselves,” Shiro said, “So every morning we are going to work on these handouts and hopefully you'll learn something about yourself.”

Hunk raised his hand, “Do I have to do it, too?”

Shiro thought about it for a second, “Well, I suppose you don't _have_ to, but I think it's a good idea.”

“Yeah, you don't have to be a fuck up to better yourself.” Lance said, winking at Hunk. He glanced back at Shiro, who did _not_ seem to enjoy his stellar joke, “Hah, uh, sorry.”

Shiro inhaled sharply through his nose, “Turn to the first page everyone. Today's about discovering yourself.”

“I discovered myself one cold night when I was fourteen.” Lance said. He snickered, giving Keith a smirk. Keith just rolled his eyes.

“I want you all to answer these questions.” Shiro said, “Be honest. No one else will read it, so don't be afraid to express yourself truthfully. I want you to _think_ about your answers. After you're done, I'll collect the papers and keep them until the end of next week, where we’ll go over your answers together one-on-one, to see your progress.” He smiled in a way that was sickeningly genuine. The guy really believed he was helping disadvantaged youth or something. Lance felt sorry for him, wasting his time like this.

Shiro clapped his hands together. “Have any questions?”

Lance raised his hand. “Yeah, why are there no kittens in the kitten playroom?”

“I _just_ told you,” Keith scoffed. “It's not kitten season!”

“Ah, right. Okay I have another question. Can I postpone my community service until kitten season?”

“I'd like to do that too if possible.” Pidge added.

Shiro stood with a sigh. “You all have pens, fill out the exercises. I'll give you,” he glanced at his watch, “fifteen minutes.” He strolled over to the door and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Ah, so he was supervising. That made sense, really the guy shouldn't ever leave them unsupervised.

Lance's eyes drifted down to the first question. So many words. He hated reading. The letters always floated around everywhere and it was hard to concentrate. He looked around. Hunk was already scribbling down an answer. Pidge was, too. Keith was staring at the ceiling.

“Why do we have to do this?” Lance finally complained, turning and gesticulating at Shiro, “Can't you just ask me the questions and I'll tell you my answer? Why do we have to write it down?”

“I'd prefer to have you write it out so I can look over your answers again later.” He said. Lance scowled, moving the scowl from Shiro back to the paper in his hands.

Okay, fine. He could do this, he's not _stupid._ He had a _learning disability,_  which is why he got an extra hour to take tests at school. It's also why he fucking sucked at school. School was the worst.

Fuck, he was getting distracted again. First question. Fuck. He didn't actually know the first word. He’d just skip it. _Blank_ yourself in a short para–

“Do you need help, Lance?” Shiro asked, suddenly in front of him. Lance looked up; Shiro had his arms crossed and his brows slightly furrowed like he was preparing himself to be annoyed with Lance.

“What? No? Why would you think– do I _look_ like I need help?” Okay, maybe that came off as a bit defensive.

“You’ve been staring at the page for three minutes,” Keith said.

“Hey, shut up! Stop looking at me and work on your own stuff!” Lance snapped. “You haven't written anything yourself!”

Keith crossed his arms and huffed. “I’ve already done this stupid thing once before.”

“Well be quiet and do it again.” Shiro said. Keith groaned and hunched over his paper.

Shiro crouched down in front of Lance, his voice quiet.

“Listen, I read your file, I know you have–”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Lance cried, arms flailing a bit, “I get it, we don’t have to share this with the class!” He glanced around. Everyone was definitely staring at him now.

Shiro sighed, nodding, “Okay, I won't. But if you need help, just ask, okay? I want you to succeed here.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. He didn't entirely trust Shiro yet. Sometimes people said they understood and then still treated him like an idiot. And now here was Shiro almost outing him in front of everyone, pretty much screaming 'hey look at this guy who can't read!’.

“I'm _fine._ I don't need your help.” He huffed, “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn't think you were stupid, Lance.” Shiro said, but he stood up anyways, “You can come talk to me later if you want.” He strolled back to his post next to the door.

He rolled his eyes as dramatically as possible. “Yeah, okay.”

But… he _did_ need help, clearly, because he couldn't figure out what this first goddamned word was. It has a _Z_ in it, why were they using words with _Z?_ If they were using big words he wasn't going to participate out of protest.

So, fuck that question.

He moved onto the second question. There were no Zs at least. First word: if. Great. Second word: there. Amazing, he was on a roll, the next two words were was and… ant– no, _anything–_

“Do you not know how to read or something?” Keith said, his words just dripping with sarcasm and ire. Lance bristled.

“Of course I know how to _read,_ ” he spat, feeling his cheeks going red. He could _feel_ Pidge staring at him.

Keith's dumb, handsome face fell, and he frowned at Lance. Well fuck him anyway, who cares if he was mad? Lance hunched closer to the floor, pointedly not looking at Keith.

A moment later he felt Keith‘s breath ghosting in his ear as the boy whispered, “If you don’t know the words you can ask.”

Lance felt every hair on his body stand on end. His face was _burning,_  and he was _offended_ that this kid had just given him _goosebumps._ Why was he so close?! He had no business bringing his warm body and sweet voice that close to Lance–

“I'm, uh,” Lance was _flustered,_  but he powered through the sentence anyways, “wh… what, so you can laugh at me?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I told you what feral meant without laughing, didn’t I?”

Okay, that was true. He glanced around. Hunk and Pidge had both gone back to actually completing the exercise.

“I don't know what this word is.” He mumbled, pointing at the terrible _Z_ word.

Keith glanced down at the first word on the page. “Summarize.”

 _Summarize,_ right. “That means, like, recap, right?”

“Yeah, the question says to recap what you did to get here in a paragraph.” Keith said and, somehow, didn't sound smug or sarcastic at all.

“Thanks.” Lance murmured, feeling butterflies in his gut. This was _bad._ This asshole was being _nice._ If he kept this up, Lance might start _really_ getting a crush.

Keith just nodded and went back to his own sheet, a tiny pleasant smile on his face. Lance took this as a cue to _actually_ do his work.

He ultimately asked Keith about four words. Lance managed to answer three of the six questions before Shiro told them time was up. Keith, on the other hand, hadn't written anything down in that time and instead had doodled between the lines. He still handed in the packet to Shiro just like everyone else.

“See, wasn't that therapeutic?” Shiro said, straightening out the pile of worksheets. He didn't give them time to disagree, “So I know you're all itching to spend time with some cats, so let's get to that. It's kitty litter time!” He said this with far more joy than he had any right to have. He clapped his hands together, “Alright, get up guys. C’mon, up, up, let's get going.”

 

***

 

The morning was spent on chores. Around eleven a family came past to look into adopting a cat. Shiro all but shoved them into the kennel room when the people arrived, hastily telling Keith, “Have them meet Dr. Acxa, she's in today.”

Keith huffed, and headed towards the medical wing.

“Wait, wait, why do you get to be in charge?” Pidge complained.

“Cause I know where it is,” Keith shot back. “And I know Acxa already.”

“Okay, well, instead of going to see the doctor, why don't we go out the back and share a joint instead?” Lance nodded his head in the approximate direction of the back door.

This made Keith pause. “Do you have another sock joint?”

“Sock joint?” Hunk looked Lance up and down, his eyes settling on his ankles.

“You brought weed?” Pidge wrinkled her nose, “Really? You brought weed to community service?”

“Wait we're talking about weed?” Hunk was now eyeing up Pidge.

Lance ignored Hunk and turned, gasping, to Pidge. “How do you know what weed is? You're a baby!”

“I’m fifteen!” Pidge cried.

Lance shook his head. “A literal infant. You should be preserving your innocence.”

“You didn't answer my question,” Keith frowned, “Do you have it or not?”

Lance frowned back at him, “What, is it my _job_ to supply the weed? You could bring it sometime you know.”

“So you don't have it.” Keith rolled his eyes and resumed walking.

Lance grumbled. “I thought maybe you would have some.”

“I'm on _probation,_ if I'm caught with weed I'm going to jail.”

“Maybe we shouldn't be having weed.” Hunk said, “We could have fun without having weed.”

Pidge snorted. “ _Having_ weed.”

“What? You don't need to have weed!”

“Thanks, Hunk. I'll keep that in mind next time.”

They reached the end of the hallway that connected the rescue to the medical wing. Keith pressed his shoulder against the bar and pushed it open. “Here’s the vets’ section. Acxa’s office is just over here.”

“Is Axca really her name?” Hunk asked, “I've never heard that name before.”

“You should talk,” Lance laughed, patting the big guy’s shoulder.

Hunk made a face. “Are you talking about me? Because I already told you it’s a nickname. That was literally the first thing you asked.”

Lance gasped in mock surprise. “Look at you! Being sassy, I like it! It’s good on you.” Hunk frowned, looking slightly confused, like he wasn't sure if Lance was being sarcastic or not.

Keith just rolled his eyes and pushed through the door leading the group into the vet’s office.

They entered a small, white waiting room. There was a receptionist desk, and a single door that was currently closed. The floors were tiled, also white, and most of the walls were taken up by posters for pet foods or pet advisories or cork boards filled with flyers for dog walkers. Lance had never been in a vet's office before. He never had a pet. There was a little dish sitting on the receptionist desk that was filled with little brown nuggets he assumed were dog treats.

“So there's a vet's office attached to the rescue?” Hunk asked in unfettered excitement, literally _squealing_ when he saw a big gray cat hop down from the window sill.

“The vet's office was here first, actually.” A sweet voice drifted across the tiny room. Lance turned to see a young woman standing in the previously closed doorway. She laughed, “Hey Keith! What are you doing here?” This woman didn't _look_ like a vet. She looked entirely too young. She was tall, thickly built, with dark skin and even darker, round eyes. Her hair was tied in tight braids that hung down just past her ears, which sported a pair of sparkling gold earrings. She held a stack of papers in her arms, which she promptly dropped on the desk. She crossed the room and crouched down, wiggling her fingers towards the cat, “Meeps, come here. Meeps. It's time for your pill–” the cat turned and trotted away, jumping up onto a filing cabinet that sat behind the desk, “He fucking hates me.”

“Hey Shay,” Keith said, a rare and beautiful smile on his face, “I didn't know you'd be here today.”

“Oh yeah, I’m trying to get my community hours up.” Shay stood again, a hand on her hip. She directed her attention to the three newcomers, “So, who are your friends?”

Keith shook his head, “They're not my–”

“Hey, my name's Lance,” Lance slid forward, putting on his most dashing smile. He offered his hand, taking hers when she didn't take his, “What's a cute girl like you doing in a shithole place like this?”

“Uh,” Shay wrinkled her nose, pulling her hand away, “my parents own the building. I actually really like it here.”

Oh shit, her parents owned the place! Quick, back pedal, “Well, it is the nicest vet... place I've ever seen. I can show you some even nicer places– OW!!” Lance reeled back, rubbing the back of his head. What the fuck? Keith just smacked him!

“Stop that. It’s embarrassing to watch.” Keith glared at him.

Lance sighed. He turned back to Shay, running a hand through his hair, “Sorry, I’m actually in community service because I have an addiction to flirting with beautiful wome– OW!!” Keith smacked him again. “Okay, seriously dude, that needs to stop!”

“ _You_ need to stop,” Keith snapped.

Pidge snorted. “Yeah what the hell? I thought you were gay.”

“What?” Lance said, genuinely confused. “Why? What made you think that?”

Pidge sputtered, “You said yesterday your definition of a good time was–”

“ _Oh,_ oh, right! You're confused young one,” He patted her head, or tried to before she ducked out of the way, “For your information, I am _bisexual._ I still very much love women.”

“This is more information than I ever needed.” Shay said through a strained smile, eyeing Keith as if asking for a rescue.

“The girl is Pidge.” Keith said. Meeps had come down from the filing cabinet and was now enjoying some scritchies under the chin from the guy.

“Katie Holt,” Pidge said, “Pidge is a nickname.”

“Nice to meet you Pidge.” Shay grinned.

Keith nodded towards Hunk, “And he’s–“

“I’m Hunk!!” The boy practically shouted, making everyone flinch. Meeps scrabbled away to hide behind the receptionist desk. “I, uh, i-it’s also a nickname.”

 _Yikes._ That was embarrassing. Lance had never seen Hunk act like that. Granted, he knew him for two days, but this was definitely out of character for him. Oh he soooo had it bad. He could tell just by Hunk’s face. The boy was _smitten._

Unfortunately for him, Shay was not impressed with his sudden outburst. Shock would be a more apt description. “Uh… nice to meet you,” Shay said though an uneasy smile. “So, you guys are with the community service program?”

“Well,” Hunk scratched the back of his head, “I’m not- I’m here volunteering. Because I like cats. Uh, gotta get my hours.” He have a lopsided grin.

Shay seemed to relax. “Oh, right on! Me too.”

Lance could feel the shift in her mood. Could practically see her first impression label change from “loud weird criminal” to “loud weird goofball”. With was substantially better. He might actually have a chance with her if he kept it up.

And in that moment, Lance made it his life’s goal to be the wingman to this adorable future couple. He was willing to take a backseat for the sake of true love. Besides, if it didn’t work out, Lance could always be a second choice.

“Yeah, the rest of us are cold hardened criminals.” Lance said with a shrug. He sidled up to Hunk and patted the middle of his broad chest. “But this guy’s just here out of the goodness of his heart.” Hunk gave him a puzzled look, idly rubbing the spot.

“Okay… well, anyways, why are you guys here?” Shay's dark eyes traveled back to Keith.

“Some people came by to adopt a cat so Shiro told us to come meet Acxa.”

“Oh, okay,” Shay headed back towards the door, “Well I'll give you a little tour, then. Ezor and Zethrid are in today as well.”

Ezor? Zethrid? Lance had never heard of those names, but he had at least a modicum of social aptitude, so he didn't say anything.

Pidge, it seemed, didn't have even the base awareness, as she said, “What kind of names are those?”

“Uh, not _English,_ you racist.” Lance said, long and drawn out as to maximize the embarrassment. Pidge did look sufficiently flustered, which white people usually did when the _r_ word gets bandied about.

“I'm not sure where each of them are from,” Shay said, “But they are immigrants. I think Ezor is Indian? Almost _positive_ Zethrid is from Russia. I guess you could always ask for yourself.” She led them down a narrow hall with fluorescent lights that buzzed dully against distant chatter. On the left was a closed door with a large ‘1’ sign hanging slightly lopsided on the adjacent wall. The door on the right was open, this one titled ‘2’ with the same flimsy black placard as the first room.

Shay approached the room, knocking lightly on the open door. “Dr. Axca? I’ve got Keith and some people from the community service program here.”

The group of teens crowded around the doorway, peering into a small, blue room. Lance's nose burned with the smell of rubbing alcohol. In the center of the room was an stainless steel exam table, one end push up against the wall to limit escape routes for scared animals. In one corner was a desk outfitted with a computer and small jars of supplies, like cotton swabs and q-tips. On the walls hung posters depicting cross sections of a cat and a dog in scientific detail.

There was a woman sitting at the desk who had been typing on the computer, but turned to face them. She was a small woman with pointed features, tan skin, and straight black hair that hung to her jaw on one side. The other was braided tight against her scalp. Her eyes were dark, nearly black, and seemed to stare right through Lance.

“Hello.” She said, unmoving. Her expression remained tight, like she had a general air of disgust with a twinge of curiosity. Her eyes slowly slid over the group, settling on Keith.

“Hey Acxa.” Keith said. A tiny smirk pulled up at the corners of her mouth.

“What are you doing here?” She sounded a bit annoyed.

“Shiro told us to come meet you,” Keith said, sitting down in one of the other chairs pushed next to the exam table. “There’s a family here to adopt so he wanted us out.”

“No, I meant what are _you_ doing here?” Her brows raised a millimeter, “Haven't you already gone through this program?”

“Oh,” Keith shrugged, “Well I’m here again.”

“I see.” She watched him silently for a moment, “You look awful. Did you get in a fight? What happened to your ear?”

“A cat got him,” Lance said. He was unprepared for Acxa’s undiluted gaze to fall on him and he withered a bit with her dark eyes staring at him, “Demon cat. Yesterday.”

Acxa’s lips twitched like she _wanted_ to smile but was trying very hard not to. “Was it Sabre Tooth?”

Keith grimaced, “Yeah.”

“Oh my god,” Shay sighed, “It took four of us to get that cat through intake. Zethrid suggested we euthanize her but I bet you know how _that_ went over with Shiro…”

“Well I'm glad someone's going to try to rehabilitate that animal.” Acxa said. She stood, heading for the doorway and parting the group like the red sea around her, “Well, I suppose I'll show you around. This is my exam room.” She vaguely gestured around the room on her way out, “There's an identical one across the hall. This is where we do most of our exams and minor treatments for patients.”

She strolled out into the hallway and the group followed. They went through a door into a far more open space with a divider down the middle. Both sides looked like operating theaters, “This is where we perform surgeries. Dr. Zethrid and Dr. Ezor are currently performing a neuter.” She nodded stiffly to two figures hunched over a rather large dog. The dog was splayed out on its back on the operating table, a blue sheet draped over its body save for a small square between its back legs. Lance looked away. Surgeries freaked him out. He didn’t even like fake surgeries in movies. Actually, just thinking about the fact that there was a dog with some of his insides on the outside was making him feel woozy.

“Wait so they're performing the neuter right now?” Pidge asked. Shay nodded as Acxa gestured to the two scrub-clad women.

“Dr. Zethrid and Dr Ezor perform over a thousand spays and neuters each year.” She said.

“Yeah, no thanks to Mr. Shirogane.” The larger of the two women griped. And she was _very_ large; tall and broad, she looked a bit like she could rip Lance in half if she really wanted to. Much like Shiro, though Shiro looked like he worked out. Zethrid was huge because she was probably descended from Vikings. She had short brown hair, pale skin with patches of rosacea across her cheeks and down her arms. She was also covered in blood, which was horrifying.

Ezor stood next to her, currently clamping down a set of forceps around the base of the dog’s balls. “Yeah, most of those neuters are from his trap-and-release program.”

Ezor was thin, but she looked like she did a lot of squats at the gym. Her scrubs were pink and orange with blue puppies on them. Her skin was a deep brown, as was her long hair, pulled back in a long braid that trailed down her back.

Lance watched as she handed Zethrid a scalpel. He, against better judgement, watched her slice into the dog’s skin and _pop out a fucking testicle._

Keith was closest to him, and he felt himself grab onto his shoulder. _That woman was literally cutting into the dog's nutsack and pulling out his balls!!!_

Keith squinted at Lance, his arms crossed. “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Lance was most definitely _not_ okay.

He vaguely realized he was falling, but was completely powerless to stop his face from colliding with Keith’s shoulder.

 

***

 

He was suddenly being jostled. Lance groaned, trying very hard to open his eyes. He was minutely aware of noise around him, but his brain was foggy and only running at half speed. Slowly the garbled sounds turned to voices, and then to words he could understand.

“Is he dead? Did he die?”

“He’s clearly moving, Pidge. He just passed out.”

Lance blinked his eyes open. A blurry field of colour slowly came into focus. There was a crowd of people around him. His brows furrowed. Where the fuck was he again?

He saw Keith standing over him, looking a tiny bit concerned, but also a bit like he smelt a bad fart. Oh right. Community service.

“Are you okay?” A woman standing next to him said. Right, one of the vets. Ezor? She was holding her hands out in front of her. Her gloved hands were still covered in blood. Lance groaned, feeling a wave of disgust wash over him. He very nearly passed out again. It wasn't so much the _blood,_ but the fact that he knew that blood came from a _surgery–_

And then he woke up again.

“Lance? Dude?” This was when he noticed his head was in Hunk’s lap. The guy was gently patting his cheek, looking _incredibly_ concerned, in stark contrast to Keith.

Keith had his back turned to Lance, now, currently ushering Ezor and Zethrid away.

Hunk was still patting his cheek.

“Stop, I'm fine–” Lance groaned, brushing Hunk’s hand away. He sat up, slowly. His face fucking hurt. Why did his face hurt? “What happened?”

“You passed out and face planted on the ground.” Pidge said. Ah, so _that's_ why his face hurt.

“I need to not be in here.” He breathed, trying to stand. Hunk helped him up, maybe because he saw how wobbly Lance was.

“I'll take you back!” Hunk offered, maybe out of the kindness of his heart, or maybe to impress Shay. Either way, Lance wasn't about to turn down the offer.

“You're afraid of blood?” Keith asked, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“No, no.” Lance managed to say before Hunk carted him out through the door. The tall kid led him through the vet office and back through the door into the cat rescue.

In the lobby there were two couches set up, pushed back against the front wall to make a small waiting area. Lance wobbled to the nearest one and immediately laid down.

“So are you, like, scared of blood or something?” Hunk asked, following Lance over and sitting on the unoccupied couch.

Lance sighed, draping an arm across his face to shield his eyes from the glaring fluorescent lights. “No, not _blood,_ specifically.”

“Oh?” Hunk sounded like he didn't believe him.

“It's the… the cutting, the beeping of the machines, the…” Lance paused, feeling another wave of nausea. He took a deep breath, “I just don't like surgery.”

“Yeah, apparently not. You passed out.” Hunk said. Lance stared up at the ceiling, slowly realizing how much of a mess he was. He had _fainted._ He _fainted_ in front of _Keith._ He was never going to get the guy’s respect now. The dude probably performed neuters for fun with one of his seventeen knives.

There was a quiet moment where the two teens sat, unmoving, a silence hanging above them. That silence was shattered when _something_ suddenly jumped up onto Lance's chest.

Lance let out an inhuman screech.

There was a flurry of hair and hands. Shiro rushed into the room to see Lance face down on the cold tile floor and a flustered Hunk running after a very puffy gray cat. Meeps.

Fuck this day. _Honestly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this story, check out our other fic, [**Aequor Viridi Mutaris**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829868) . 
> 
> :D <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked that, check out our other work [Aequor Viridi Mutaris](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9829868?view_full_work=true) and [Alternate Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054213) ! 
> 
> Thank you for reading our silly cat puns! We have a lot more in store for this fic, so stay tuned >:3c


End file.
